Broken Wings
by Miratete
Summary: G1: Ramjet, badly damaged in battle, was brought back to the Ark for questioning and hacking. However this time something went wrong, and a remorseful Red Alert feels himself to blame for the seeker's broken condition. Inferno isn't exactly pleased to be sharing his lover with the babbling, childlike Decepticon, especially when it comes to the seeker's physical and emotional needs.
1. Inferno's Return

**Broken Wings**

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Foreword: This story is based upon the following prompt posted at Tfanonkink:

 **Req anyverse any crossfaction, hacking/mindfrag, damage, D/s, no-fun pet**

2016-02-23 08:18 am

Decepticon character of your choice is damaged in battle on the head. Autobots take him home, they find his processor is badly damaged. For whatever reason (like, Ratchet is wounded too? Security issues? Lack of replacement parts? Autobots being a jerk? Your choice) Autobot of your choice decides it's better to leave him, for the time being, like that. With his processor damaged, he's less able to defend himself in a hack and he's carrying information that's absolutely essential for the Autobots.

So, yes, perhaps with Optimus reluctantly agreeing to it, Autobot of your choice hacks a Decepticon with damaged processor.

Then it turns out this had left worse "hack-wounds" than they initially thought. The 'Cons processing functions are not only limited now, he had somehow inprinted on the 'Bot who hacked him and now considers himself to be his pet. Like a loyal dog never leaving his master's side, or like a falcon returning after hunt on first call. And he's making a point of belonging to his Autobot quite openly. Eventually, the 'Bot decides to keep him, at least until Ratchet can figure something out.

Would like:  
\- The 'Con having lost his processing ability, but not his memory. He still knows he's among enemies, but he cannot plot a proper escape even before the hacking.  
\- The 'Con being very scared first. After the hack, it seems that at least he knows what to expect from that certain 'Bot and trusts him for protection against other 'Bots (against those who have NOT hurt him...)  
\- The Autobot not having conscience issues about hacking, but then feeling horribly guilty as he realizes what he'd really done.  
\- The other 'Cons (or at least some of them) laughing their heads off when they see what happened to the now pet mech. This makes the hacking 'Bot irritated and very protective over his 'Con.  
\- The Con can no longer speak properly, but he remembers many words and can reproduce most of them. No full sentences, but enough to understand if one pays attention.  
\- Eventually the 'Bot not only gets used to him being around, but starts to like him.  
\- Repairs are not impossible, they just take a long time.

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 **Chapter 1: Inferno's Return**

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The unusually severe drought in the northwestern states had brought a series of late-summer blazes across Washinton, Idaho, Oregon, and Montana, and Optimus Prime, in a gesture of goodwill and amicable relations, had sent Inferno, Powerglide, and the Protectobots out to assist in fighting the forest fires. After three and a half months on the front, the team finally came home for some much needed rest.

Inferno had been warned well before returning to the Ark that Red Alert had a Decepticon in his direct control and supervision. But actually seeing his lover curled up with the much larger prisoner was a shock and a half. Red Alert lay there in the double-sized berth he normally shared with Inferno, but wrapped around him instead of the firetruck was a white seeker with red wings. One of the warrior's arms draped over the much smaller Red's middle and the other arm was positioned for use as a pillow by both of them

Yes, he'd heard the story of what had happened, of the broken Decepticon being delivered to Red after the last battle for hacking. Yes, he'd heard that things had not gone as planned due to a damaged main processor. Yes, he'd heard that Red felt horrible for the incidental damage incurred by the standard procedures, and that his lover had vowed to look after the Decepticon until something could be done.

But no, he'd not expected to find his lover and the jet snuggled together so intimately. He'd assumed the broken Ramjet would be sleeping in the brig. Or in the Aerialbots' hangar. Or on the floor at least. No. The two were spooning right there in the berth, looking like a lovely couple in close to matching paint.

"Red! I'm home!" Inferno barked.

At once two pairs of optics lit, one red and one blue. Both mechs sat up, staring at the intruder. The jet cried out and hid behind Red Alert, whimpering and babbling nonsensically.

Red Alert looked miffed, and then he turned to the jet comfortingly, stroking the white plating and running his hands along the edges of the red wings before glaring at Inferno. "Inferno," he huffed. "I told you to be quiet when you came in," he snapped.

"You told me you were looking after him, but it looks like you're looking after him perhaps a little too well."

"He's a mess. A huge mess. I owe it to him. And now you've scared him."

"And you've let him have my place in our berth?" Inferno pouted, folding his arms over his chest and taking a defensive stance.

Red Alert's anger shifted to embarrassment and his shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I know this looks bad. You've been gone all this time and you come back to find a 'Con in your place."

Ramjet continued to whimper and clutch at the grounder, babbling incoherently, stuffing his face timidly into different hollows along Red Alert's back.

"You bet it looks bad."

Guiltily Red Alert looked away from Inferno. "Look, it's not like he's here to replace you," said Red Alert, finding his courage again. "I hurt him... hurt him badly. Ratchet's working on finding the parts to replace the broken part of his processor, but it looks like he'll have to search on Cybertron. Fixing a seeker when you don't have the right parts on hand seems to be a logistics nightmare.

Inferno stood with his arms crossed over his chest. "And once he leaves, I get my side of the bed back? And you with it?"

Red Alert let out something of a whimper. "Of course! Whatever are you thinking? It's still yours, 'Fern so stop being jealous. Ramjet just... he just seems to have become very attached to me. I don't know why. I can hack a bot but I can't figure out what he's thinking. Though I'm not sure how much he's even thinking. He's so confused and seems to have a hard time concentrating on anything."

At this point Ramjet looked up at the tall red mech but wrapped his arms around Red Alert.

"It's okay," cooed. Red Alert over his shoulder. "He's not going to hurt you."

"Angry him. Not hurt. Us not hurt?" the seeker said semi-coherently.

Red Alert stroked one of the jet's hands softly. "No. He's not going to attack us, and we're not going to attack him either," he said gently.

The jet seemed to calm somewhat at this statement.

"That's Inferno. Inferno is my lover. He's been away for a while."

"Inferno. Lover him? Lover attack? Inferno."

Red Alert smiled lightly. "No he's not going to attack us. And yes, his name is Inferno."

"How can you understand that nonsense?" questioned Inferno.

"I can't understand all of it. But some of it. It seems his processors are completely muddled. You just have to listen to the intonation and then fit the words to it."

"And can he understand us?"

"Somewhat. It's just best to go with emotion and physical cues if you can."

"Well at least I have that then." Inferno stepped up to the berth, sat with a whump beside the pair, and quickly pulled Red Alert into his arms. "Red Alert. Mine! You Ramjet not touch. Not touch!"

Ramjet, who'd reached out for his keeper as the interloper had pulled the smaller mech away, suddenly cringed, bringing his hands up to protect his head, whimpering in fear at the rough action.

Red Alert on the other hand squirmed and pushed Inferno away, squawking in protest. "You can't do that, 'Fern. He's so scared and so unstable right now. Stop being a jealous fool."

"He's a 'Con, Red. A lousy broken 'Con."

"He's a Cybertronian. I have to do something."

"I come home after over three months of being away, and I've been thinking of you non-stop for most of it, and yet here you are all cozy with some messed up Decepticon. All I want is to hold you and tell you how much I missed you... but this..." He folded his arms over his chest and turned away.

Red Alert sighed but did not look at Inferno.. "I know."

"He's a mess! And a 'Con. Just throw him outside and let him go home!" Inferno spat angrily.

Red Alert suddenly looked panicked. "Inferno, I tried to do that. I did. We took him outside and thought he'd just fly away and return home."

"And?"

"He didn't even take off. He just stood there like his wings had been broken." Optic wash began to pool at the bottoms of Red Alert's eyes. "We told him to leave. Ironhide even threatened him. Cliffjumper was about to shoot him."

The forming tears suddenly began to fall, and Red Alert shuffled across the bed to where Ramjet had retreated, the seeker now trying to wrap himself in the canvas blanket at the foot of it. Tearfully, Red wrapped the blanket around the seeker and found the other mech crying as well. "But he wouldn't go. He just stood there clinging to me like a scared little sparkling." Red Alert reached into a pocket and pulled out a towel, and with it wiped the tears from both of their faces. "At that point everyone knew that Ramjet here was seriously fragged up, and Prime told me to just look after him until he either wanted to leave or they could trade him off to the Decepticons."

"Well? Why wouldn't he leave?"

Red Alert sighed. "We think there's more to it than just the physical damage to his processor. Something in the hacking just messed up his coding as well. I mean, he was damaged when we took him prisoner, but he ended up worse because of me. I don't know what though. Jazz and I have been trying to make sense out of what went wrong, but neither of us is a coding specialist. I've hacked hundreds if not thousands of 'Cons, but nothing like this has ever happened before. But once he's better, he'll be out of here. I promise."" A new cascade of tears fell from the security director's optics, and this time Ramjet took the towel and wiped them away tenderly, something of smile on the dark grey faceplate.

Red Alert reached up and touched the jet's shoulder kindly in return. "I take him outside every day, and encourage him to fly or to at least transform. I even convinced a couple of the Aerialbots to try helping. But..." His hands fell away from the prisoner. "He won't even start up his thrusters. It's all my fault he's like this, and I feel sorry for him. I broke him. Yes, trying to ram Sky Lynx and missing was what downed him, but he wasn't like this before I touched him. I know he's just a 'Con, but killing him on the battlefield is one thing. Hurting your prisoners..." Red Alert's guilty words trailed off, and he took the jet's hands, clasping them assuringly.

Ramjet reacted positively to this, and his faint smile became wider, and he flopped forward gracefully to end up in Red Alert's lap, his pointy head making a pillow of Red's thigh.

Inferno had calmed somewhat at his lover's guilty confession, as well as at the display of gentle affection. Ramjet obviously wasn't a threat, and of course any weaponry he'd brought with him would have been removed or disabled even before the hacking. "Fine. And... I'm sorry I was mad. I just didn't expect this. I thought I'd come home, wake you up, and we'd have a good long interface, at least until I had to report in with the rest of the fire-fighting team. I knew you'd be asleep at this time of day."

"Sorry to ruin your fantasy," Red Alert apologized.

"It's not ruined... if you can get rid of him, at least for a little while."

"I can try. He's kinda stubborn."

"Put him in the brig?"

"The brig. Primus no!" Red Alert shuffled off of the berth, and taking Ramjet by the hand, he led him over to the couch against one wall of the room. "Ramjet. Sit here. Wait for me, okay?"

Ramjet sat obediently.

It was with some surprise that Inferno watched Red Alert kiss the Decepticon's nosecone.

"Wait here? Okay?"

The seeker nodded.

Red Alert went back to the berth, climbing in and stretching himself on his back with his legs slightly spread. "All yours," he said with a suggestive smile. The lights in the room dimmed at his command.

Inferno turned and looked over at Ramjet sitting across the room, the mech looking on with much concern and even some frustration on his faceplate. "With him there?"

"He'll just sit there. He's fine."

Inferno smirked. "Red, you've always been a bit paranoid. You've either been cured, or perhaps _you_ took a hit to your processor too."

Red Alert frowned. "Please, 'Fern. Just trust me on this?"

Inferno sighed. "Fine. I'm sure you know him better than I do."

Red Alert's frown morphed into a smile. "Now come to bed and show me what you've been missing."

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" **Broken Wings" continues in Chapter 2: Red Alert's Ward**

Note: Next chapter will be rated M... M for Inferno and Red Alert making up for lost time.

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 _Transformers_ and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of Hasbro and Takara Tomy. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

Authors thrive on the responses of their readers. If you want to see more works like what you've read, let the author know.

If you'd like to see how this plot plays out, give this fic a 'Follow.'

If you thought this story was worth reading again sometime, give it a 'Favorite."

If you thought this story was interesting or well-written or worth recommending to a friend, leave a review.


	2. Red Alert's Ward

**Broken Wings**

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 **Chapter 2: Red Alert's Ward**

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Red Alert had been missing this too. He lay on his back, Inferno atop him, the red mech's long spike completely filling his valve. Like the mech himself, Inferno's spike was larger than average. And Red loved it. He'd always had an attraction to larger mechs, and admittedly that attraction had played a part in his hooking up with Inferno in the first place. Finding that Inferno's interfacing equipment matched his frame had been something of a pleasant surprise when their relationship came to that point half a year after the Negavator incident.

"Red... I'm close," the big mech moaned as he wriggled his hips, trying to fully hilt himself. Usually he could if Red Alert was completely relaxed or had been carefully stretched out. But this time his partner seemed unusually tight and short, much more so than usual.

"Overload for me," Red Alert whispered in his passion. "I'm all yours. Fill me..."

Inferno couldn't help but chuckle. "I already have, darling. You're so tight tonight. I guess you've not been taking care of yourself while I've been away."

He heard a deep intake of air into Red Alert's systems, but the mech said nothing. Instead black hands settled on his aft and pulled attempted to pull Inferno's hips in with a harder rhythm.

Inferno obliged, and began pounding into Red Alert as hard as he estimated he could without hurting him or doing any damage to the sensitive equipment inside. There was something of a size difference for them, which meant they had to be careful when interfacing. Going at it with wild abandon certainly meant an embarrassing trip to Ratchet the next morning.

"You were away far too long," Red Alert grunted between thrusts.

"I wish you could have come with me," Inferno responded. "You and I are a good team."

"I know. I was needed here though."

Inferno leaned forward and pressed his face into Red Alert's shoulder, his mouth catching onto a transformation cog that was always so temptingly visible when Red Alert was in his root mode.

"Mmmmmph!" Red Alert sighed as Inferno's tongue teased the cog. "You're so naughty. No one else has done that to me."

"I'm surprised it's that sensitive," Inferno responded, pushing his face harder into the shoulder to try to grasp more of it between his lips, all the while working his spike in and out of Red Alert's clutching valve. The charge within him built quickly and soon the electricity was crackling over their frames in a tiny storm of excitement and desire. And when Inferno overloaded came they both whined, internals revving hard, sparks pulsing, sensor networks out of control, and Inferno held himself still as the gush of transfluid emptied deep within his lover. He adored filling Red this way, channeling the fluid well past the valve and spurting right into the gestation chamber, and subsequently hearing him complain about how it would drip continually over the next day if he didn't wash it out, which was neither an easy nor a comfortable procedure. "Just practicing for when you're viable," Inferno would always tease.

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When the whirlwind of bliss had abated Inferno kissed the smaller mech's faceplate gently and with all tenderness. "Red, I've missed you so much. I'm so glad to be back," he sighed

"I've missed you too. At least I knew you were out there doing some good for this planet."

"Yes. I thought that same thing every time I tucked down into recharge." He suddenly chuckled. "One of the humans took to napping in my cab. He wasn't you, but at least I didn't have to recharge alone."

"And here you chide me for having Ramjet when you had a pet of your own."

Inferno laughed. "I wouldn't dare call him a pet. Greg was young and pretty new to firefighting and sometimes he just seemed a little overwhelmed. I think he felt safe when he slept inside of me, so that's probably why he did it. You know how some of these humans are."

"You're very sweet and caring, you know." Black hands toyed with the radio-nubs on Inferno's helm.

"Am I? I've not brought you to overload yet," Inferno teased. He waggled his hips, rubbing his spike around against the pressure nodes inside of Red Alert's valve. Inferno had not withdrawn after overloading, instead remained deeply seated inside of Red Alert.

"That can be remedied," said Red Alert encouragingly between purrs of pleasure.

"And it shall," grinned Inferno, beginning to thrust again.

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Inferno woke later, finding himself alone in the berth. Both Red Alert and Ramjet were gone.

He sent a ping to his lover, which was answered immediately. ::I'm in my office. It's a regular day around here.::

::And your pet?::

::Ramjet's not my pet.::

::Could'a fooled me.::

::He's sitting outside my office. He's not allowed in, so he waits outside.::

::Just sitting there? In the hallway?::

::Yes.::

Inferno sighed. ::Well I'm heading down to the washracks. Can you take a break and give me a steaming?::

::I think I could join you for a while. Blaster's nodding at me. You did smell like woodsmoke last night.::

::We all do. I hit the racks as we came in, but I need a deep cleaning to get all the soot and ash out of me.::

::See you there in a breem?::

::Sure thing.::

Inferno twisted out of the berth and headed for the main washrack. Although Red Alert had one in his quarters—one of the luxuries afforded to officers—there wasn't a steamer unit inside. And on arriving at the racks he found Powerglide in one of the bays, his plating open wide and Tracks going at him with a scrub brush in each hand.

"Hey! 'Mornin' you two. Nice to be back in your own berth, Powerglide?"

"You said it. I recharged for ten hours straight," laughed the jet.

"And it's going to take another ten to get all this gunk out of you," moaned Tracks.

Inferno wondered why the dark blue beauty was helping out the jet, but then remembered that Powerglide had mentioned back at some point in Idaho that Tracks owed him a favor. "I know what you mean. I showered last night, but I still need a steaming. Red's on his way down to give me a hand with it."

"You meet Ramjet?" asked Tracks, looking up from his work.

"Yeah."

"That mech's a mess," Tracks said disdainfully. "And I'm not talking about his plating." 

"So I hear. I came in to find... Well, he's like some pet dog to Red now."

"All I heard was that he got banged up in battle when he hit a cliffside, and then Red was hacking him and he kinda got messed up in the processor from that," said Powerglide.

"Yeah, that's pretty much the story he told me," said Inferno, stepping beneath a showerhead to clean off what the cloth had missed after last night's interfacing. "At least it's what Red told me. He feels pretty guilty about it."

"It's really strange. Seeing Ramjet just running around here after him. No cuffs or anything," divulged Tracks. "He follows Red everywhere, except when he leaves the Ark. And then he just sits outside fretting and waiting for him to come back."

"He doesn't fly away?" asked Powerglide.

"Nope. Just sits there waiting for Red. He's not flown since he was brought here. Though he runs off and hides if anyone starts to harass him. The twins have been pretty mean to him."

"Can't say I blame them. But he doesn't fight back?" inquired Inferno.

"Nope... just takes it and cries. At least he used to. Sideswipe roughed him up pretty good once, and now he'll run off if he sees the twins coming and Red's not there to protect him. No offense Inferno, but Red's gotten pretty attached to him. You might have to get used to sharing your boyfriend now."

Inferno huffed. "I kinda got that impression last night when I got in. Well how long..."

The doors into the washracks opened and Red Alert walked in, Ramjet on his heels, bringing an abrupt halt to the conversation. "Hello 'Fern!" he called, moving straight for him.

They embraced, Red Alert not caring that he was getting wet from the shower. Ramjet didn't seem to mind either as he hugged Red Alert from behind, sandwiching the smaller car-former between himself and the fire-fighter.

Tracks and Powerglide stifled a snigger as Inferno looked over at them with some disgust on his face.

"It's so nice to have you home," Red Alert sighed against Inferno's chest, now somehow completely beneath the spray of hot water from the jostling.

"Thanks," he replied glaring at the seeker. But the seeker didn't see it. His optics were off for the moment.

"Blaster's at my station for an hour, so let's get to it, shall we?"

"Yes please," Inferno responded, switching off the water and moving to lie upon the steam table. And to his surprise, Ramjet did not follow Red Alert over, but turned the shower back on and bathed himself under it as his keeper gave Inferno a deep cleaning.

And Inferno loved it, watching and feeling his beloved attend to him. He'd become used to bathing himself in the lakes where he'd been fighting fires at, hoping not to get to much sand or silt in his feet. He was too big to go through the car washes. Though at one point a grateful fire department in Montana had washed him along with their fleet after putting out a local flare-up. But it had been nothing like this, Red Alert blasting away layers of accumulated dust and grease and ash with the steamer's nozzle. And when they were done Red gave him a quick polishing, as Tracks was now doing for Powerglide as well. "I've gotta look good," laughed Powerglide. "After I'm done with reports I'm flying down to LA to visit Astoria."

"I'll bet right now she's getting her nails done or shaving her legs or having her hair curled for you," Tracks teased.

"Oh probably. Not that it matters that much to me. I think she looks good all the time," beamed Powerglide.

"Got any plans?" asked Tracks.

"At this point just a nice flight out to Catalina Island for a picnic dinner. She'll probably drink a whole bottle of wine and fall asleep on my hand. I love it when she does that though. She's so sweet when she's asleep."

"Raoul won't touch wine. He says wine is for pretentious people," Tracks laughed.

Inferno continued to unwind, relaxing deeper beneath the circular stroking of the mitt in Red's hand. He'd missed this. And to feel Red Alert's field enmeshing with his again... Three and a half months should have been the wink of a star but it had seemed like forever. The only strange thing was the fact that there was a white Decepticon seeker sitting on the floor beside them giving himself a bit of polishing.

And when Red Alert excused himself with a quick kiss to return to work, Inferno sighed. He would have loved to return to Red's quarters, but reports had to be made first. "Could we go out tonight?" he called after him.

"Of course. Don't want Astoria and Powerglide to have all the fun now, do we?"

Ramjet, noticing the white and red mech leaving suddenly tossed away his own polishing mitt, scrabbled to his feet, and hurried after his keeper.

Powerglide and Tracks burst into laughter. "So, is it true? Does Red let him recharge in his berth with him?"

Inferno glared at the pair, put away the polishing supplies left out, and stalked off with a huff of disgust.

-o-o-o-o-o-

After Red Alert's shift ended, he met Inferno in the entryway to the Ark. And of course Ramjet was right behind Red Alert. "Stay here and wait. Be good for me, okay?" said Red Alert to the seeker, who was already fretting the departure. 

"Red stay. Red stay," Ramjet whimpered as he clutched at Red Alert's tires.

"I'll be back later," Red Alert assured him, giving him a few mollifying strokes to his helm. "Just be good, and stay away from any of the others if they give you trouble."

"Red stay," the seeker begged. "Ark stay."

"Don't worry. I'll come back soon, all right?"

Inferno withheld a groan. It was if he'd come home to find his lover had adopted a particularly clingy sparkling or pet, one that demanded far more time than reasonable.

"Red..." Ramjet whimpered, clutching the edges of Red Alert's pectoral plates.

"Sometime tonight?" Inferno huffed.

"I'm sorry," came the apology. "He gets like this sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

Red Alert ignored the question and addressed his charge. "Ramjet. I'm going. You be good while I'm gone," he instructed, dropping into his alt-mode.

"No," whined the seeker, trembling visibly as the Lamborghini drove away quickly.

Inferno snorted a little laugh at the jet's misfortune. "Have a nice evening," he said sarcastically to the seeker as he transformed himself and drove away, working to catch up with Red.

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" **Broken Wings" continues in Chapter 3: Ramjet's Presence**

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-o-

 _Transformers_ and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of Hasbro and Takara Tomy. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

Authors thrive on the responses of their readers. If you want to see more works like what you've read, let the author know.

If you'd like to see how this plot plays out, give this fic a 'Follow.'

If you thought this story was worth reading again sometime, give it a 'Favorite."

If you thought this story was interesting or well-written or worth recommending to a friend, leave a review.


	3. Ramjet's Presence

**Broken Wings**

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 **Chapter 3: Ramjet's Presence**

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After hours of driving and snuggling and watching the waning moon rise behind Mt. Saint Hilary from a favorite vista point, Inferno and Red Alert did return to the Ark. Inferno wondered how quickly the seeker would jump his keeper on returning.

It was immediately. As they came up the access road they could both see Ramjet sitting up in one of the Ark's long-disused tail thrust vents. And he jumped down even before Red Alert could transform, hugging the car happily. "Ramjet miss Red. Ramjet alone," he stated, sounding on the verge of tears.

Inferno groaned. The seeker really was an overly clingy sparkling.

Red Alert transformed and was immediately swept up in a welcoming embrace, encircled by arms that could reach all the way around his broad chest. "Were you good?" he asked. "Did you stay out of trouble?"

"Good Ramjet good."

Red Alert smiled and patted the seeker affectionately on the side of the head.

"Now bedtime?"

"Nope. Wash first. Then bedtime."

The seeker looked a little confused. "Wash first?"

"You know I always take a shower after being out a while driving."

"Oh! Wash first!" Ramjet exclaimed and ran through the entrance bay only to wait at the doorway into the washracks at the far end.

Inferno was shaking his head yet again. "That is one sad Decepticon."

"I know. I just hope we can fix him"

"Have you even tried?"

Red Alert's sensor horns suddenly flared at the accusation. "I haven't. I'm programmed to hack... not un-hack!" he said defensively. "I'd only mess him up all the more. We really need a coding specialist. I mean, Ratchet can do some, but it's not exactly his field. And this is only if we can repair the damaged part of his processors."

"And Jazz?"

"Jazz can take out doorlocks and security systems and defense networks. Not perform neurological repairs," Red Alert snapped and began walking toward the washracks.

"All right. Fine. So no one here can fix him all that well. Sorry I even asked."

Red Alert stopped. And then he sighed and turned back to Inferno. "I'm sorry," he apologized. "This whole situation has been so difficult for me. I'm sorry to bring such a nice evening to such a frustrating end."

Inferno caught up to his lover and put his hands on his shoulders. "The evening's not over yet. Let's go clean up and then find your berth, shall we? We still have a lot of time to make up for, you know."

Red Alert smiled. "All right." It was always this way with Inferno, a bumpy ride of emotion when there was some disagreement between them. One moment they'd be fighting and the next they'd be deeply, passionately in love.

-o-o-o-o-o-

"Gahhh!" Inferno cried out on onlining his optics only to find a red pair of the same staring back at him in the darkness of the room.

Woken by the noise Red Alert sat up with a lurch, colliding with Ramjet who was leaning over him on the berth. Both mechs cried out and Ramjet went scrabbling away. Red Alert soothed the side of his helm where he'd made contact.

"I think he was trying to get into bed with us!" accused Inferno angrily.

"He probably was. He's been sleeping here with me every night, at least until last night."

"What!? Well tell him to recharge on the couch. This is our bed. Not his. He can't sleep here now that I'm home."

Red Alert sighed. Inferno hadn't even been back twenty-four hours and it had been nearly non-stop difficulty. "I'm sorry. He's just lonely. I'm sure he misses his trine. And even if he's been damaged to the point of not even remembering them, I'm sure he feels there's something missing."

"Whatever."

Red Alert looked to where he could see the soft glow of optics against the wall and the sound of quiet whimpering. "Ramjet. Are you okay?"

The red glow rose as the seeker turned his face toward him. "Lonely," he said tremulously.

"Awww Ramjet..." Red Alert climbed out of the berth and went to him, cradling him in his arms. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bump you like that. Are you okay?"

"Ramjet lonely. Berth not wanted."

Red Alert sighed and looked back to where Inferno was switching on the bedside lamp. "He's not sleeping with us," the large red mech stated preemptively on guessing what the seeker meant.

"'Fern... please? Please just for tonight? Let him know you trust him?"

"He's a Decepticon. I wouldn't trust him with anything, especially not the mech I love."

"Inferno..." Red Alert's voice was quiet yet full of regret.

"But it seems my foolish lover trusts this broken Decepticon enough to share his berth with him," said the red mech melodramatically.

"'Fern, please. We had such a nice time tonight. A drive, the stories of your time firefighting, that wonderful moonrise, a nice long 'face. Don't ruin things now."

The red mech only huffed bitterly.

"I know this is above and beyond any sort of understanding or acceptance I've ever asked of you. But I'm still going to ask. Would you please just bear with me until we can repair him and get him out of here, or he just leaves? Would you trust me on this?"

"Do I have a choice?" Inferno grouched.

"You have lots of choices."

"And if I choose _not_ to accept him in your life?"

"It's temporary. You know that."

"But if I choose not to? What then?"

Red Alert's EM field churned and his horns sparked hard. "Then... Then..."

"Yes?"

Red Alert moved to where Inferno sat on the bed. "Then you'll have to move out temporarily. And after he's gone, then I'll leave it up to you if you want to move back in or not.

Inferno's mouth fell open in astonishment. Red Alert would really defy him like that? Black hands were clenched tightly at his sides. Red Alert had drawn the line and was not going to concede defeat.

Ramjet, sensing some distress in his keeper, went to Red Alert's back and curled his arms around his keeper protectively.

Inferno rose from the bed. "You feel that strongly about this whole situation? That you'd choose him over me?"

Red Alert sounded as if he were choking and his horns no longer sparked but glared a solid bright blue-white. Tears ran down his faceplate. "I did something awful. I have to make it right," he said firmly. "I'm going to make it right."

Inferno's face, a set scowl for the past several minutes, suddenly melted into a smile. "I love it when you're strong and stubborn. Come to bed, Red." He moved back to welcome him in.

"What about Ramjet?"

Inferno sighed. He was probably going to regret this. "Bring your broken friend with you."

-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-

" **Broken Wings" continues in Chapter 4: Red Alert's Secret**

-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-

 _Transformers_ and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of Hasbro and Takara Tomy. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

Authors thrive on the responses of their readers. If you want to see more works like what you've read, let the author know.

If you'd like to see how this plot plays out, give this fic a 'Follow.'

If you thought this story was worth reading again sometime, give it a 'Favorite."

If you thought this story was interesting or well-written or worth recommending to a friend, leave a review.


	4. Red Alert's Secret

**Broken Wings**

-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-

 **Chapter 4: Red Alert's Secret**

-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-

Inferno gradually got used to Ramjet's constant presence, accepting in time that the poor thing meant no harm but only wanted to keep close to Red Alert. The seeker would sit quietly and patiently for hours outside of the security office door, behaving himself completely. Back in Red Alert's quarters he rarely was more than an arm's length away from his keeper. Inferno got used to the seeker kissing and stroking Red Alert lovingly. He also got used to the teasing by the other Autobots about Red's pet.

And in time Inferno would get used to the fact that Ramjet needed more than just keeping.

It had been only a few nights after Red Alert had made his stand. The two of them were lounging on the couch watching television when Ramjet woke from napping on the floor in front of them. He moved to the couch, and unexpectedly climbed atop Red Alert, kissing him and running his lips and glossa and fingertips over Red's plating. This time it was more than the basic affection Ramjet usually displayed.

"Ramjet... you don't need to," hissed Red Alert quietly, suddenly realizing the attention he was receiving, and that Inferno was looking on with an expression that somehow conveyed both shock and worry.

"Want to. Want love. Us happy."

"You don't need to, Ramjet. Restrain yourself," Red Alert said calmly as he pushed the Decepticon back gently. But despite the calmness and confidence in his voice his field was nothing but nervous twitching. "Maybe later," he said quietly.

"Wait... He doesn't need to what?" Inferno asked, suddenly realizing what this looked like and not liking it, nor liking the way Red Alert's field was suddenly jangling. Ramjet's field on the other hand was the opposite—welcoming and gentle and begging for closeness.

"He's a seeker..." stated Red Alert. "You know how seekers are."

"In what way?"

"He needs..." Red Alert stopped, trying to think of how best to phrase this. And then he sighed, realizing that the only way to address this was head-on. "He needs to interface …frequently."

" and he...?"

Red Alert's guilt was obvious from his expression.

Inferno groaned and fell back against the couch. "I can't believe you've been letting him. Can't he just take care of himself?"

"It keeps him calm and relaxed, and off of anyone else. It's not like I want to be doing it with him, but I have to. Though we haven't since you came home."

As if that would ease Inferno's frustration... "And you don't have to keep him up here in your quarters either."

"Look, 'Fern. I know this has been difficult for you, and you've been very understanding and even a little bit accepting. Would you give us thirty minutes? Four breems? It won't take long."

Inferno huffed. "You promised me that your valve was mine alone."

Red Alert looked pained. "I did."

"Fine." Inferno rose and moved for the door. "I'm going to...well.. I dunno. I'll be back in an hour. Get it done and over with. But when I get back, I'm going to remind you to whom you belong."

Red Alert smiled bravely. "Thank you 'Fern. You're the best. And you won't be disappointed."

"One hour."

-o-o-o-o-o-

When Inferno returned as announced, a half-empty cube of high grade in hand and a wicked smile on his faceplate, Red Alert was waiting for him on the berth, oiled and dusted with asbestos, Inferno's favorite mineral. Ramjet cuddled his keeper from behind, smiling softly as well.

"Where did you get the high-grade?" Red Alert asked. Inferno rarely touched it.

"Bumped into Smokescreen. He said I looked like I needed a pick-me-up. But I'm guessing I didn't really need it now that I see you really are ready for me."

The pair on the berth smiled wider.

Inferno set down the cube and moved to the bed, where he climbed atop Red Alert, pushing the mech down as he went and Ramjet scooting out of the way. His lips easily found all the sensitive places on Red Alert's neck and helm, and soon the mech was whimpering from the stimulation. "I'm guessing you don't know how to do this, do you, Ramjet?" Inferno asked the seeker, locking optics with him.

"Love Red Ramjet," was the response. "All love."

"Whatever."

Inferno shoved his glossa into a gap in his lover's plating where a series of nerve cables ran from the sensors in his head down into the processors in his chest, causing Red Alert to moan loudly. The pleasurable spot had been a lucky find during one early interfacing session. With repeated stimulation Red went limp against the berth and Ramjet's lap. "Oh 'Fern... you're amazing," the smaller mech sighed.

"Say you're mine," Inferno demanded.

"Of course I'm yours," Red whimpered, managing to lift his head somewhat.

"I'm not sure sometimes, not with your pet there." His hands tightened on the frame he held.

"You know my love is all for you, 'Fern," came the plea. "I feel love for you and guilt for him."

"So emotional," Inferno mused. He grabbed Red Alert around the helm and turned his neck the opposite way, then latched his mouth over the corresponding spot on the other side of Red's neck.

Red Alert cried and squirmed as Inferno forced his glossa hard against the sensitive area. "'Fern! 'Fern you're so rough! Be nice!"

"Tell me you're mine."

"I am yours! I said it already!"

"Then prove it." Inferno let go of his lover, pulled away, and pushed the smaller mech's legs apart to offer access to the valve.

Knowing what the tall red mech wanted and loving the dominant posturing, Red Alert slid open the panel covering his interfacing array, and Inferno did likewise, extending his large spike.

Ramjet gasped at the sight of it, and then whimpered slightly as he clutched at his keeper.

The reaction was not missed by Inferno. "Jealous, Ramjet?" he asked cockily.

"Big. Triplechanger big."

"You bet it is," grinned Inferno, for once understanding completely what the messed up mech had said. "And watch what I do with it."

He fell over Red Alert, placed the tip of the organ at the entrance of Red's valve, and shifted his hips to align himself. A touch of transfluid already dribbled from the tip.

"'Fern! Wait!" cried Red Alert.

But Inferno did not wait, instead shoving himself hard into the black folds of his lover's valve, hilting himself with one stroke. Red Alert yelped in pain and Inferno winced as well. "Red! You're dry inside!" he coughed in shock. Carefully he withdrew, looking down at the trembling mesh, his macho attitude suddenly gone. "You're not lubricated... But...? Did...? Why?"

Red Alert found himself cradled tightly from behind by the seeker, who had not missed the fact that the penetration had hurt. "Red damage," Ramjet blubbered as he glared at Inferno.

"I.. I thought you were r-ready for it," Inferno stammered. "You just had the 'Con spiking you. You should have been full of lubricant and his transfluid." He reached into the spot between the berth's mattress and the wall where they kept a towel for wiping off post-coital residues, finding the towel damp and streaked with silver. "I don't understand. He just spiked you. It couldn't have been reabsorbed that quickly. Did you wash it out?"

Red looked away remorsefully.

"Red?"

The security officer hid his face in Ramjet's elbow.

"Red, what's going on here?"

"That's my transfluid on the towel. I've been spiking him," Red Alert confessed. "He's a valve mech. Well maybe. At least he wants to me to spike him."

"Red? I don't understand. You told me your spike was inoperative—from that damage you took in the Battle of South Iacon. And that you were a valve mech anyway."

Red Alert sighed and shuddered. "I only told you half of the story."

Puzzled, Inferno reached in and slid away the panel over Red Alert's spike, something he'd never done before. To his surprise there was no resistance. The telltale sheen of transfluid glistened on the visible part of the head. "Tell me what's going on. What's been happening here?" He lay down beside his lover, timidly wrapping an arm around the trembling mech. "Tell me the rest of the story."

Red Alert sighed again and then locked optics with Inferno. "My spike _was_ badly damaged in the battle of South Iacon. The Autobot compound was surrounded and they were shelling the buildings. I was caught in an explosion and crushed beneath a falling wall. You know all this."

"Yes. You told me about it," Inferno nodded.

"My repair nanites were able to stop the bleeding and keep me alive, but I was under there so long, some of the further repairs were... well... off." Red Alert rebooted his optics but refused to look at Inferno, instead just staring at the ceiling. "When they were finally able to dig me out half a stellar-cycle later, the medical team fixed the worst damage. Among other things, my spike had healed wrong. It didn't affect my basic functioning, and it wasn't exactly necessary equipment. So, I just left it."

"But you've been spiking Ramjet? So it must be operational."

"I can pull it out manually, but..."

"Yes?"

"It's bent. Really bent. And the pressure sensors were reset way too high. I overload far too quickly if it gets any stimulation. I figured one day I'd just have the whole thing replaced, but there's never been a good opportunity. It's not exactly been a priority."

"But then why did you never tell me this, Red?" Inferno asked, confused as to why his lover had hidden the truth all this time.

"Because it's not pretty, and like I said, not a priority. When you said you were a spike mech, it suddenly didn't matter at all."

"So?" Inferno's hand slipped to the exposed part of Red Alert's spike. Tentatively he pressed a finger to the head, drawing and unbidden whimper from Red Alert's vocalizer. "You think I'm that shallow and selfish? That I'd leave you over an ugly spike?"

"I wanted to be perfect for you," Red apologized.

"You really thought I'd leave you over that?"

"Maybe... Maybe not. I just didn't want you to think of me as broken or second-rate. I felt pretty bad about what happened when that hit I took in the bunker got me glitching. So yes, I lied to you when I told you I was a valve-only mech. I used to be about fifty-fifty."

"Red... You didn't have to."

He only sighed again.

"Let me see it. You've been spiking Ramjet. So it obviously works well enough, even if just a quick frag." His hand moved to cup the side of his lover's face. "I don't care if it's not perfect, and I'd love it if you'd spike me now and then. I know I'm a spike mech myself, but sometimes I'm up for a little something different with you."

"You don't want to see it, trust me."

"I do. And Ramjet's seen it. How come he gets to and I don't?"

"Because he's too messed up to care if it works right or not. He just wants me to use it on him."

"Please, Red? It can't be that bad." Inferno's fingers gripped the head and he began to pull on it, starting to draw the damaged spike manually from its sheath

Red Alert did not fight, but did offline his optics again as Inferno brought the spike out. He cringed each time one of the crimps in the plating caught on the edge of the housing, and each time the fingers shifted their grip. After the battered thing was fully extended what felt like an hour passed. Red Alert could no longer bear the silence of his lover's examination. "I told you didn't want to see it," he said acidly.

Inferno shifted and there came the unmistakable sensation of lip components embracing the head. Red Alert also felt Ramjet's grip on him tighten, followed by a cycling-up of his systems. The seeker was being aroused by the sight his keeper refused to look upon.

"'Fern! Don't! It's too much!" Red squeaked as Inferno took the head of the spike into his mouth.

"Are you sure?" he mumbled around the almost pliable metal, and then suddenly swallowed in as much of the kinked length as he could.

"Ah! 'Fern!" Red Alert cried as suddenly every node lit up and a sensory charge rocketed to maximum tolerance. Then a finger wiggled its way over the base plates, the tip stroking over the nodes there. "No! 'Fern! I'm going to..."

Red Alert could do nothing but arch off of the berth uncontrollably as he overloaded, the physical and emotional charge having overwhelmed him. He rose on his heels and shoulders, the other two mechs moving with him and refusing to let go even as he screamed and convulsed, the sensations being far to much to handle, even though he'd overloaded only thirty minutes before into Ramjet and only ten minutes before been stunned by the rough penetration of Inferno's spike. Suddenly Inferno's fingers pressed into the quivering mesh of his valve, and the orgasm only heightened as they fingered the pressure nodes there, immediately bringing on a second overload. And just as he whited out, he heard a whisper of "all love" and felt Ramjet's lips against his own.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Red Alert woke to find himself sandwiched between his two lovers, Inferno on his back beneath him, the big red mech's spike hilted once more in his valve. Ramjet knelt over them staring into Red Alert's optics. And as soon as his keeper was stirring, be began kissing and licking what remained of the mineral dusting from his plating. Red Alert smiled, and then he couldn't help but giggle. Perhaps he should get some video of this and send it on to Thrust and Dirge... just to let them know that their trinemate was having a good time with the Autobots.

"Welcome back, Red," Inferno smiled and began to kiss the side of his helm.

"'Fern... how long was I out?" he asked. He found that his spike had been put away—Ramjet had probably done it—and now his valve was definitely well lubricated. He became aware of the proper slide of the spike inside of him as Inferno rocked his hips slowly beneath him.

"Not too long," came the soft answer. "I hope you don't mind that I started without you."

"You know I love waking up to find you inside of me. It bothers some mechs, but not me."

"Of course..."

Ramjet's kissing moved from the silver faceplate to his neck, obviously hunting for the place that Inferno had earlier revealed that elicited so much pleasure in the red and white mech.

"You didn't have to do that for me..." Red Alert sighed.

"And you didn't have to hide your spike from me either. I can't believe you wouldn't trust me."

"I just thought you wouldn't... I mean, I wanted to be perfect for you."

Inferno chuckled. "I don't want you perfect. Your scars make you unique and special."

"My spike is very unique and special in that case," he replied self-deprecatingly.

Suddenly Red Alert gasped as Ramjet found that same sensitive spot between the plates on his neck, and the seeker giggled happily at his success before probing at it again.

"Ramjet... easy," Red Alert whined.

The white-plated seeker only giggled again and pressed himself as tightly as he could to his keeper.

-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-

" **Broken Wings" continues in Chapter 5: Inferno's Charge**

-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-

 _Transformers_ and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of Hasbro and Takara Tomy. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

Authors thrive on the responses of their readers. If you want to see more works like what you've read, let the author know.

If you'd like to see how this plot plays out, give this fic a 'Follow.'

If you thought this story was worth reading again sometime, give it a 'Favorite."

If you thought this story was interesting or well-written or worth recommending to a friend, leave a review.


	5. Inferno's Charge

**Broken Wings**

-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-

 **Chapter 5: Inferno's Charge**

-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-

Red Alert felt somewhat guilty as Thrust gently placed the package into his open hands. He and Ramjet's trine had defied both of their factions in order to get the replacement parts for Ramjet. Ratchet, Wheeljack, Astrotrain, and Swindle had even been caught up in the scheme as well. All would face conspiracy charges should the plot be discovered—fraternization charges at the least. "How is he?" asked the seeker.

"Still the same." He looked down at the package—a nondescript metal case. "I hope that this will be all that he needs."

"We miss him," said Dirge, standing back a little, arms crossed over his chest.

"I think he misses you too," Red Alert responded.

"I know you're taking care of him. Better than... well. Thank you for looking after him."

Red Alert sighed. "It's been difficult. My lover has not been happy." On approaching Thrust and Dirge for assistance, he'd shared some of the details of the living arrangements once he found out they were sympathetic to Ramjet's plight .

"I'm sorry," apologized Thrust. "I know what we're like, and I can't completely imagine what you're going through. Just know that you will have our eternal gratitude."

"Thank you."

"You're a good mech, Red Alert," said Dirge, suddenly coming over. ")n the wrong side, but a good mech."

The Autobot flinched a little when the cone-head reached for him, but it was only to pat him on the shoulder. "Hopefully this will fix him and everything will return to normal," Red Alert sighed. And then he pulled out a data-slug and handed it over. "I recorded this last night. He looked so sweet with the blanket wrapped around him. I know it's probably not what you're used to, but you'll see that he's well and quite happy."

Uncharacteristically, Thrust smiled. Dirge's pat on the shoulder went to a full hug. "Thank you, Red Alert. If you ever decide to defect, you're welcome with us."

Red Alert winced again. The episode with Starscream and the Negavator was still a sore spot. "Highly unlikely, but I know your offer is made in all kindness."

Both cone-heads smirked. And then they nodded at each other and took off into the skies.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Red Alert could barely concentrate at his work station. Ramjet was three hours into surgery now and still no word from Ratchet or First Aid. The parts Thrust and Dirge had obtained were the correct ones, but both he and Ratchet knew that

there was coding damage as well. Ramjet's processor might be repaired, but deeper inside the mech would still be broken.

And it was all Red Alert's fault, no matter how the others tried to reassure him.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Going into Ratchet's office, the CMO pulled a cube of high-grade from a cabinet along with two glasses. He filled the pair, and then sat at his desk, pushing one across the desk's smooth surface toward the security officer. And then he slumped forward, his elbows down and his hands cupping his temples.

Red Alert, standing in silence against the wall awaiting the verdict, sighed. The news obviously wasn't good. "Well?"

"Physically, he's probably the best he's ever been," said the medic. "He wasn't exactly in perfect shape even before his crash."

"But?"

"I put his head back together, but after testing... well, I can't fix coding damage... at least nothing that deep."

Red Alert sighed again. They had so hoped that once Ramjet was fully repaired he'd suddenly right himself, come to his senses, and fly off taking the burden of his care with him. Red Alert sat and took the proffered energon, throwing it back in one go. "So it is mostly coding damage. "Damn." Suddenly his optics brightened, and not from the shot of excessively strong high-grade now flaring in the depths of his fuel tank. "What about Wheeljack? Wheeljack builds 'Bots. He's gotta have some coding experience!" Red Alert suddenly was kicking himself for not having considered Wheeljack before.

Ratchet looked up at him. "You're right," he said lethargically. He and First Aid had spent nearly seven hours of the previous day laboring over the broken Decepticon. Afterward, Ramjet been put into forced recharge until just an hour ago when they woke him for testing. "Except that Wheeljack doesn't write code."

"What? But how can he..."

"Simple. He uses pre-packaged code. He just selects the pieces he wants and downloads it into the mech's processors. Most of the work's already been done by others."

"Really?"

"Ever watch Sunny painting?"

"Yes."

"That's how a coder works. One tiny brushstroke at a time. Sometimes re-doing. Sometimes un-doing. In the end you have the full picture. Wheeljack... more like a picture puzzle, or perhaps a mosaic is a better analogy. But it's nothing original. He puts together a few large pre-made pieces to come up with one greater picture." He picked up his glass of high-grade and drank it as Red Alert had.

"I see." Red Alert pushed the empty glass across the table, and Ratchet refilled it. "So now what?"

"If Prime had brought along Highbrow, this would have been so simple."

"Yeah." They both knew of Highbrow, the Autobot code-specialist. The mech had practically written the book on coding for them. "Any idea where he might be or what might have happened to him?"

"I don't know. Last I heard he was at the Science Institute of Iacon, teaching in the Autobot medical laboratories. But that was some time ago."

"Let me look him up." Red Alert sat back, connecting to Teletraan.

Ratchet poured himself another drink.

"You were right about the Science Institute. Last report has him there about seven vorns after our mission departed." came the answer in couple of minutes.

"And then? Anything?"

"That's when Shockwave's drones rolled into Iacon and emptied the city. He may have fled in that attack, or have been captured. Or was possibly killed."

"I doubt he'd still be there at the Institute. Or what's left of it."

Red Alert heaved a deep sigh. "It's possible, but I don't have to be Prowl or Skids to tell you how unlikely that is. That whole sector's been abandoned."

"Is there any recent intelligence on the area from Elita One's contingent?"

Red Alert paused to cross-reference the two ideas, but came back shaking his head. "Nothing from them on that are, or on anyone named Highbrow, and the girls have been diligent with their reports." He paused again, going still and looking at the ceiling of Ratchet's office. "None of the colonies have reports on him, at least that I can find. Not in immigration or legal files. He may have fled to one, but did so under an assumed name and has chosen to remain unknown."

"Damn, " coughed Ratchet.

"I'll keep looking. This was just a quick search, and I might be able to tap into Shockwave's databases as well."

A chime pinged from Ratchet's console as well as his wrist just half a klik later. "Great... the meeting. Were you summoned to it?"

"The planning council one with Optimus?"

"Yeah. You too?"

Red Alert nodded. "Yes, and I'm told that my attendance is mandatory."

"Mine too," Ratchet commiserated. "There weren't many details, but it sounds like he's got some big thing coming up."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Engine rumbling , Red Alert entered his quarters after the meeting and slumped onto the couch. Ramjet followed and lay on the floor at his feet, his arms wrapped around the security director's ankles.

Inferno looked up from the computer console he was finishing up his reports on. "Bad meeting? I see it was a long one."

"Prime's going off to Japan for two weeks. A goodwill and purchasing trip. He's taking several of us with him."

"And you're one of the several?"

"Yes."

Inferno smiled and rose from his desk. "Red! You should be excited. Japan is supposed to be fascinating."

"I know. But for two weeks? And of course I can't take Ramjet with me."

Inferno tried to stifle his groan. Everything was about Ramjet these days. The broken seeker had become Red Alert's constant companion, and in Inferno's opinion, Red Alert's constant burden.

"I'll have to put him in the brig, but that will be horrible. The solitude will destroy him."

"Red, he'll get used to it. He's a seeker. They're tough," Inferno responded. "Do you think Megatron would have let him join the Decepticons if he couldn't handle a little solitude?"

"But he's damaged. And seekers need that constant social connection no matter how tough they are."

Inferno tried to stay patient and to not let his frustration get to him. "Well why don't you try putting him in for the night. I'm sure he'll cry for a while, and then he'll just settle down and recharge. Besides, we've got Motormaster and Wildrider down there right now. Didn't you tell me that just this morning? He's got some fellow 'Cons to keep him company."

Red Alert sighed again. "I suppose..."

"Nothing ventured; nothing gained, as the humans say." Inferno offered, coming over to the couch and leaning over the back of it. "Take him down there and lock him him. He'll be fine. You can check on him in the night or first thing in the morning."

Red Alert looked conflicted, but agreed. "All right. I'll give it a go." He stood and glanced down at the seeker at his feet. "Ramjet. Come with me." Stepping out of the seeker's arms he moved for the door. But then he paused. Quickly he went to the berth, grabbed the canvas blanket and pillow that had become the seeker's, and resumed his course. "Ramjet, let's go."

-o-o-o-o-o-

In the brig Red Alert selected an empty cell, the one furthest away from Motormaster. The big violent mech would be nothing but trouble.

Ramjet looked on curiously as his keeper went in and placed his pillow on the bare berth and spread out the blanket. "Ramjet. Come," he instructed, patting the bed.

Ramjet giggled and flounced over to the cell. "Bedtime?" And then he gasped. "Love time?"

Red Alert scowled. "No. Recharge time."

Wildrider, who had been watching silently from the cell right across from the one chosen for Ramjet, suddenly spoke up. "The hell's wrong with Ramjet?" he demanded. "He's acting... weird. Howcome he's not cuffed?"

Red Alert, expecting this, replied calmly. "He's injured."

"Injured?" He came right up to the bars and gripped them tightly. "Hey! Ramjet! What's going on?"

Ramjet, standing in the door of the cell, looked over at Wildrider on hearing the mech call his name, and then walked right up to the imprisoned Stunticon. "Wild..." he said.

"It's Wildrider. What's wrong with you? What happened?"

Ramjet smiled but his optics flickered with sadness. "Red... Red."

"Red what?" Wildrider asked.

Ramjet looked over at Red Alert, who was arranging the blanket again.

"Red Alert did something to you? What did he do?"

Ramjet turned his foggy gaze back to Red Alert. "Red... Red love!" he suddenly exclaimed and bounced over to his smaller keeper, wrapping his arms around him in an enormous hug, smiling and cooing.

"Ramjet, please," huffed Red Alert. "Now lie down on the berth."

The sad optics brightened and Ramjet moved for the bed, but he seized Red Alert's hand and tugged him in with him, pulling the red and white mech off balance and getting him to topple in with him.

"Ramjet! No! This is just for you. See? Your blanket? Your pillow?"

Ramjet was deaf to the protests of his keeper and somehow managed to get atop Red Alert, straddle his hips, and lean down to kiss his neck and face.

"Oh Primus!" Wildrider cried in astonishment, unable to look away from what he was seeing. Ramjet, a proud, dangerous seeker, loyal to Megatron, a scourge upon the Autobot faction, was smiling and giggling and looked about ready to frag the Autobot head of security.

Two cells down, the silent-until-now Motormaster suddenly roared with laughter. "The 'Bots messed him up good. Reprogrammed him into their little 'facing toy!" he hollered in sick delight.

"We did not reprogram him!" Red Alert protested while trying to fend off the seeker's amorous attentions. "He was damaged when we found him."

"You must'a messed him up like this. There's no way he'd be acting this way if you hadn't," Motormaster laughed, amused by Ramjet's behavior. "That's it Ramjet! Give him a nice fragging," Motormaster cheered him on.

"Ramjet! No! Don't listen to him. Let me up!"

"Red up?" questioned Ramjet?

"Yes! Stop this and let me up!"

The seeker looked disappointed, but obliged. "Red not love?"

"Awww... he listens to you," said Motormaster, perhaps even more disappointed than the seeker about the abrupt end to the show. "I thought he was stupid before, but he's even more stupid now."

"He's not stupid," said Red Alert defensively. "His primary cognitive processor was half-crushed when he collided with a cliff while attacking Sky Lynx," Red Alert explained, omitting that further damage had been incurred in the hacking. "He needs a replacement processor and a code-specialist to perform the file transfers."

"So he's just stupid until that happens," guffawed the Stunticon leader.

Red Alert's hand clenched into a tight fist. Motormaster had obviously picked up on the officer's concern and was trying to antagonize him.

"Will he be all right?" Wildrider asked concernedly.

Red Alert got off the berth and walked over to the yellow mech. "I'm not sure. We don't have the parts or a code specialist to do anything about it. And since he's a 'Con, he's not exactly high-priority."

"Of course," agreed Wildrider.

"We are looking after him though." He paused and looked at Wildrider, who was for once being unusually calm and reasonable. "Any chance that there's a code specialist among the Decepticons here on Earth?"

Wildrider shook his head. "No," he said quietly.

"A shame."

Red Alert did his best to get Ramjet into the berth, and when he finally did and got the cell door closed, Ramjet looked confused, and then worried. When Red Alert left he began to cry non-stop. A few hours later Brawn, on duty in the brig, begged Red Alert to come back and claim the unhappy guest. "He's bawling like a hurt sparkling and it's making things very awkward down here," the diminutive warrior complained.

"Bawling? More like screaming," a very frazzled Wildrider complained from off-camera.

A few hours later when Ramjet began to throw himself against the bars, Red Alert was forced to come down to the brig and calm him, upon which the seeker flung himself into Red Alert's arms whimpering with joy and relief.

Red Alert settled him into the cell and left the moment Ramjet fell into recharge, but was summoned just four hours later, a very frustrated Bluestreak and a strung-out Wildrider both making threats.

"Just put him in here with me," said Motormaster angrily. "I'll make him shut up. At least I'll give him something to scream about."

Bluestreak and Wildrider were all for the idea, but Red Alert just took the broken jet back to his quarters.

Over the next few days several attempts were made to get Ramjet to tolerate the brig, but without success. Locking him in with Wildrider only worked for about an hour. Regular visits from Inferno did nothing. Eventually it was suggested that the prisoner be simply put into stasis.

Red Alert protested and Ratchet backed him up, both afraid of more damage being done. Stasis was not a normal state for a mech and was not to be gone about lightly.

And so at his wits' end, Red Alert begged Inferno to take care of Ramjet while he was away. At least the seeker accepted the presence of his keeper's lover and even obeyed him.

Begrudgingly, Inferno accepted.

-o-o-o-o-o-

In the pre-dawn hours, Skyfire loaded up his passengers, Red Alert being the last.

The security officer took Ramjet to the front of the Ark, embraced him as always, and kissed him quickly on the forehead. "Ramjet, be good okay? I'm going to be gone a little while."

"Ramjet good," smiled the seeker sadly.

"Yes. You will be good, won't you?" said Red Alert. He tried to push back the thought that he himself would miss his charge. He'd found himself growing rather attached to the broken mech's company and attention.

"Ramjet good."

"Inferno will be taking care of you while I'm gone. You will be good for Inferno, right?"

"Miss Red," was the seeker's sad protest.

"I know. But I'll be back soon. You listen to what Inferno says, and he'll look after you."

"Inferno not love," he pouted.

"I know. But this is what's to be."

Ramjet threw his arms around Red Alert and held him closely. "Miss Red."

"I know. But I have to go. Be good, okay?"

"Ramjet good," he said with a sad resignation

"I know you will be. I love you too, Ramjet," said Red Alert, unlocking his arms but giving the jet another little kiss.

This brought a smile to Ramjet's face, and he did not interfere when Red Alert turned and ran up the gangplank into Skyfire's passenger compartment.

-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-

" **Broken Wings" continues in Chapter 6: Ramjet's Misfortune**

-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-

 _Transformers_ and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of Hasbro and Takara Tomy. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

Authors thrive on the responses of their readers. If you want to see more works like what you've read, let the author know.

If you'd like to see how this plot plays out, give this fic a 'Follow.'

If you thought this story was worth reading again sometime, give it a 'Favorite."

If you thought this story was interesting or well-written or worth recommending to a friend, leave a review.


	6. Ramjet's Misfortune

**Broken Wings**

-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-

 **Chapter 6: Ramjet's Misfortune**

-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-

Ramjet carefully turned the page of the magazine he was engrossed in. He'd been reading a lot of magazines lately. The Autobots left the human publications lying around a lot and staring at the pictures in them was a good way to pass the time. This particular magazine was one of his favorites, meaning he kept it in his subspace to look at again and again instead of leaving it next to the door where Red Alert worked or on the table where Inferno took him to drink energon. It was full of pictures of Earth cars. Some of them looked like the Autobots, but they weren't Autobots. They were just Earth cars. However, what he liked about this magazine in particular was that it had a lot of pictures of a car that looked like a solid white version of Red Alert. It didn't have the red plating or Earth glyphs that decorated his keeper. This white version also had a human female in shiny black clothing sprawled all over it. In fact a lot of the cars had human females posing with them. Were they the owners? Were they mates? The clothes they wore didn't look like the clothes humans usually wore—at least the humans he's seen. The women in this magazines were dressed so minimally he wondered why they even bothered to wear the clothing at all as it covered so little. But it didn't matter. What mattered was that the white car looked a lot like Red Alert in his alt-mode, and staring at it made him miss his keeper less.

There came the sound of an engine from below his perch, the comfortable spot he'd found at the entrance to the Ark. It was a safe place to wait for his keeper's return, where no one bothered him as they came and went from their home. They were usually too busy to harass him. He was used to the squeal of rubber tires on decking and the sound of revving engines as the grounders hurried out or dashed in. What he wasn't used to was the sound of brakes and transforming and footsteps right below. He leaned out and looked down at the figure standing below him. "Red?"

The figure of his keeper stood there looking up at him, smiling with a little crook to the side of his mouth.

The magazine fell from his hand. "Red! Love Red!" Ramjet squawked and leapt to his feet and then down onto Red Alert, throwing his arms around the smaller mech and holding him tightly. "Red! Oh Red!"

"Miss me?"

"Red miss," Ramjet whimpered, trembling hard in the arms that now embraced him. "Red miss."

"Let's get out of here, Ramjet," said Red Alert, taking his hand and leading him away.

Ramjet laughed. His keeper was back. Inferno had not mentioned his return. Or had he? Of course Inferno barely paid any attention to him these days. But now here his beloved was! Excitedly he bounced forward, pulling Red Alert behind him into the Ark.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Inferno was beginning to worry. Ramjet wasn't in any of his usual spots—not waiting outside in the Ark's thruster cowling, not watching television inside their quarters, not sitting outside of Red Alert's office. Nowhere. He decided to walk the halls once again, hoping to find the mech, but then decided perhaps it would be more efficient to just 'comm the security office.

::'Yo, 'Ferno! What's up, my mech?:: came Blaster's effervescent response.

::I can't find Ramjet anywhere. Can you locate him for me?::

::Certainly. I've got the code for his locator right here. One klik annnnnnnnd...::

Inferno felt relieved that Red Alert had left the security codes for Ramjet's tracker with the communications mech. He still was annoyed by Ramjet's presence in their lives, but he had to keep Red Alert happy.

::Looks like he's down in the storage bays. Hall three.::

::Down there? Whatever is he doing down there?"

::I've not had any alarms go off, or any reports of anything happening, so I doubt he's been getting into any trouble. He probably just went exploring and found somewhere interesting. Gotta say, he's really been behaving himself here.::

::It's not like him to wander about places he doesn't know, as much as I keep hoping he does and gets lost.::

Blaster chuckled. ::Not liking Red's little pet? Well it looks like he's somewhere in bay four from the locator readings. I'm not seeing anything on the cameras down in there, but there's a lotta junk in that bay. I think it's Wheeljack's project graveyard.::

Inferno began moving for the closest elevator. ::I'll go take a look and bring him back. If he moves from there, ping me.::

::Sounds solid. Let me know if you need any further assistance.::

::Thanks Blaster.::

Inferno found hall three and bay four easily, and immediately understood what Blaster had meant by 'Wheeljacks project graveyard'. The room was cluttered with a panoply of the inventor's failures as well as other reminders of their time on Earth. There were pieces of Grapple's solar tower stacked into a wall, opposite a matching wall of remnants of Megatron's solar needle. The short lived recharging chambers were there as well as the battered remains of Autobot X. What appeared to be a rejected Dinobot torso sat on a large shelf. In a large pile were all manner of broken weapons.

"Ramjet!? You down here!?" called out Inferno.

Something clattered at the back of the bay.

"Ramjet?"

Silence.

Inferno moved to where he thought he'd heard the noise come from, passing a small-scale prototype of the Negavator, the thing that had brought him and Red together in the first place. A tiny smile touched his lips as he remembered hauling Red Alert out of the burning bunker, and then holding him in his arms for the first time, the smaller mech dripping with cold foam. It had been at that moment he'd realized that he wanted to be so much more than friends.

"Ramjet?"

This time he was answered with a sob from behind a precarious looking stack of... what were those? More rejected Dinobot parts?

Inferno moved around the stack to find Ramjet sitting there leaning against the wall of the bay, his legs pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped round his knees. And on seeing Inferno he turned his head away, pushing his faceplate against the wall.

"Ramjet, whatever are you doing down here?" he asked. "You're supposed to be somewhere I can keep an eye on you."

Ramjet only responded by burying his face into his knees and seemingly trying to make himself smaller.

Inferno sighed. "Come on. I'm not going to punish you. Just get back to the room right now."

The seeker looked up at him with fearful optics.

"Now Ramjet. Not tomorrow." Inferno walked up to him and took him by the arm, pulling him to his feet. And when he tried to drag him forward, the seeker balked and refused to move. "Ramjet! Stop making this difficult!" Inferno snapped. He turned to look back at the seeker, and suddenly let go of his arm. Something was wrong... horribly wrong.

-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-

" **Broken Wings" continues in Chapter 7: Inferno's Guilt**

-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-

 **Author Note:** This chapter, short as it is, contained a whole lot of world-building, much of it regards to daily life in the Ark. It was interesting to write as well with the first part being from Ramjet's point-of-view. On top of this were a number of fun G1 cartoon references, both in Wheeljack's project graveyard and of course in a mention of the Negavator.

Oh, and just a heads up... **Chapter 7 is not for the triggery reader.** I figure that realistically they're a minority in the reader base, but gotta warn the minority. So if you have issues with reading about Non-Con or Dub-Con, just move along. Plenty of other stories out there to enjoy.

-o-o-o-o-o-

 _Transformers_ and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of Hasbro and Takara Tomy. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

Authors thrive on the responses of their readers. If you want to see more works like what you've read, let the author know.

If you'd like to see how this plot plays out, give this fic a 'Follow.'

If you thought this story was worth reading again sometime, give it a 'Favorite."

If you thought this story was interesting or well-written or worth recommending to a friend, leave a review.


	7. Inferno's Guilt

**Broken Wings**

-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-

 **Chapter 7: Inferno's Guilt**

-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-

"Yes, someone got him good," said Ratchet. "Did you see who it was?"

"I don't know. I wasn't watching him. He usually keeps out of trouble. Why don't you ask him?" said Inferno defensively.

"I suppose I could," said Ratchet, trying not to let the tall red mech's attitude bother him.

He went back over to the work bay where the seeker sat wrapped in a thermal blanket, Fireflight at his side with an arm around him. The Aerialbot was the closest thing to an actual friend that Ramjet had among the Autobots. Fireflight had tried the longest and the most patiently of his brothers to get Ramjet flying again, something no one expected. And even though he'd been unsuccessful he'd earned something of a positive stance in the seeker's broken view of the world. "I'll ask him," volunteered Fireflight, holding up a hand to halt Ratchet.

"All right."

Fireflight's hand gently squeezed that of the seeker, and Ramjet looked at him. "Ramjet? Who did this to you?"

"Did what?"

"Who hurt you?"

"No hurt. Love." Ramjet's tone of voice was flat.

"What's that mean?" puzzled Ratchet.

"What do you mean 'no hurt'?" asked Fireflight gently. "Someone hurt you... hurt you here." He hovered a hand over the seeker's battered interfacing array. Though young by Cybertronian standards, the Aerialbots knew both about interfacing and consent.

Ramjet did not cringe away from the hand, but instead looked into Fireflight's saddened face. "No hurt. Love hard. Red love hard."

Inferno cocked his head to the side, and then stepped in closer. "Are you saying that Red Alert 'faced you hard?" He'd been getting much better at interpreting the seeker's babble.

Ramjet nodded. "Good Ramjet. Red good love," he said but sounded unconvinced of his own statements.

Fireflight tried again. "Ramjet, you were raped. Someone forced you to interface with them and damaged you in the process. Are you saying it was Red Alert?"

"Yes Red. Red all love. Good Ramjet good," he said sounding almost fearful this time, possibly afraid that he was in trouble.

"That doesn't make sense," said Inferno. "Red Alert's still in Japan with Optimus Prime. And even if he were here, why would he do this to Ramjet? He cares about this idiot." He'd hurried the white seeker up to the medbay, where Ratchet had confirmed that the Ramjet had been brutally and repeatedly raped. He was covered in dents and scratches. His valve had been penetrated by at least one spike and several other objects. His legs had been pulled apart far enough to crumple the edges of his hip fairings. Transfluid had been found inside his valve, his gestation chamber, his oral cavity, his stomach, and his fuel tank.

"So Ramjet, can you answer my questions with yes or no?" Ratchet asked, stepping forward to where Ramjet could not avoid him.

The seeker shuffled in his blanket, somewhat intimidated by the CMO. He'd shuddered through the whole exam and subsequent repairs. "Yes."

"Good. Did you see Red Alert today?"

"Yes."

The Autobots exchanged glances. This couldn't be right.

"Did Red Alert spike you?"

"Yes."

"Did Red Alert hurt you?"

The seeker paused. "Red love hard."

Fireflight huffed in disgust.

"Was Red Alert alone?" Ratchet continued.

"No"

"Do you know who was with Red Alert?"

"No."

"Did you _see_ who was with Red Alert?"

"Yes."

"There was someone with him?"

"Yes."

"Have you seen this mech before?"

Ramjet paused, and the worry in his optics deepened. "Yes."

"Was it Inferno?"

"No."

"Was it another Autobot?"

"Yes."

"And did the other mech hurt you?"

Ramjet paused again, looked about. "Yes. Love hard."

"And did you try to stop him?"

"No. Good Ramjet good."

"But he was hurting you."

"Ramjet good Red. Ramjet obey."

"This 'Red Alert' told him to take it from the other mech," snapped Inferno, realizing what the seeker was saying. And then he sighed and turned away. "Red's never going to talk to me again. Things have been bad enough already, but after this..." He threw his hands into the air and headed for the exit.

"It wasn't your fault," said Ratchet, following quickly after him. "You can't keep an eye on him a hundred percent of the time."

Inferno suddenly halted and turned to face Ratchet. "But I wasn't even trying. Red told me to look after him, and all I did was make sure he got some recharge and stayed fueled," Inferno moped, angry at himself. "Most of the time he just sat outside the security office door or in the entryway of the Ark and he was fine, so I just ignored him."

"Someone here had it out for him, and I'm sure there are more than a few of us with grudges against the coneheads. And someone with a grudge decided to take advantage of the fact that Red Alert and most of officers are away," theorized Fireflight.

Inferno's slumped position suddenly straightened. "The twins. They were always..."

Ratchet cut him off and scowled. "Inferno, you can't just go about making wild accusations."

"I'm sure it was them!" he said spinning around to face the medic. "Ramjet said there were two. Maybe he's so messed up that he thought Sideswipe was Red Alert."

"Calm down Inferno," said Ratchet sternly. "I know that you're trying to fix this in hopes of salvaging your relationship before it crumbles completely, but you can't just make accusations without any proof."

"Then I'll get proof!" Inferno huffed and turned to leave. "I'll be in the security office!"

"Inferno! Wait!"

The big red mech turned back toward the CMO. "What."

"Take this..." Ratchet moved over to his main work station and took a folded piece of cloth from just below one of the monitors. He opened it, revealing what appeared to be several smudges of yellow paint. "I buffed this off of Ramjet's hip."

With wide optics Inferno looked at the CMO. "Sunstreaker?"

"There are three mechs aboard painted that color. Like I said, don't go around making any wild accusations. And honestly I don't know if anything much can be done even if you can find out who did it. He is a Decepticon prisoner after all."

Inferno put his hand on Ratchet's shoulder. "Ratchet, thanks." He pushed the piece of cloth back into Ratchet's hand. "Keep this safe for me. For us."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Jazz and Red Alert sat in Skyfire's passenger compartment studying the video surveillance files as they flew back to the United States. Blaster and Inferno, for being unused to the work of tracking the various feeds from the cameras, had done magnificent work in discovering a series of anomalies as well as the two critical pieces of video.

The first was taken by a back-up camera in the entry bay, which showed Red Alert driving out of the Ark just before the time of the incident. Except that he stopped just outside as seen by the flare of brake lights. Two minutes later, the same camera showed him and Ramjet entering the Ark on foot, an excited and over joyous Ramjet pulling Red Alert along by the hand.

The second critical clip was taken by another easily overlooked camera—Hound's "Underground Garden" webcam. Down in hall three among the storage bays, the scout was successfully growing a variety of mushrooms in the twilight there. Anyone with an interest in mycology or with far too much time on their hands could log in and watch the fungus grow. Hound moved the camera every few days to take in a different subject. And this time, behind a ruffled cluster of Cantharellus cibarius mushrooms, Sunstreaker, Red Alert, and Ramjet were seen to walk past, heading in the direction of bay four.

At a stopping point, Jazz leaned back, his hands behind his head. "Open and shut case. Ratchet's got paint smudges taken off of Ramjet, as well as transfluid samples. An inspection of the painting bay revealed that your decals were the most recent ones run off on the printer, and that the shade of white you use was recently fed through the paint nozzles. The security cameras had been tampered with to cover their transit. While none of these facts alone will pin down any particular mech, together they certainly will affirm that the twins did this to Ramjet since we have the corroborative video evidence that they were heading toward bay four with him.

"Yes," said Red Alert, doing his best to hold his anger in, and Jazz could see it.

"Look, I'm sorry this happened," said Jazz, rising and coming around to sit next to Red Alert. "I know you feel responsible for Ramjet, and we all know that this is wrong."

"Inferno was supposed to be looking after him," Red Alert snipped.

Jazz took Red Alert's hand. "Red, don't blame Inferno. He's not the one who did this. The twins did."

"But Inferno was supposed to be keeping an eye on him, to make sure people left him alone. He wasn't even on duty at the time! He was just probably lying around watching T.V.!"

"Red... don't do this," Jazz cautioned. "Inferno's a very easy target right now, and I know you're angry and upset and you want to blame someone."

Red Alert's optics flashed defiantly. "Easy for you to say. Ramjet thinks it was me that did this to him! He trusted me! You don't have to go home and deal with the victim of a crime that thinks you're the one to blame."

"No, I don't. But I do have to go home and help Prowl conduct a criminal investigation into two mechs for something that shouldn't have happened. And these are two mechs valuable to our cause, who do great things for us against the Decepticons. Only this time they made a poor decision as to where to take their fight."

Red Alert sighed. "It makes me sick to think they attacked him like that... a defenseless, befuddled prisoner." He hung his head. "Inferno was right. I should have locked Ramjet in the brig. He wasn't a threat to us, but we were a threat to him." He slouched forward, crying quietly.

Jazz put his arm around him and spoke with an uncharacteristic softness. "Go ahead and cry. Let it out now. You'll need to be strong once we get back to the Ark."

"Thank you Jazz," Red Alert said between sobs.

"And go easy on Inferno, all right? You two are a great couple and I'd hate to see this break you apart."

Red Alert shut off his optics. Jazz was right—every word. "I'll try. I don't know if I can."

-o-o-o-o-o-

Inferno was there waiting as Skyfire as he touched down and his two passengers disembarked. Jazz's expression was sympathetic while Red Alert's was mixed. "Red?" Inferno called anxiously.

"Where is he? Where's Ramjet?"

Inferno sighed. He really was in trouble for Red Alert to respond that way. "He's in your quarters," he answered defeatedly. "Look, Red, I want to..."

"Not now," Red Alert snapped, cutting him off.

"Red, easy there," Jazz cautioned, catching up and resting a hand once more on Red Alert's shoulder.

"Red, I want to apologize."

"It's a bit late for that, isn't it?" came the angry response as he stomped right past his lover.

"Red. Calm down. We went over this," Jazz said softly. "Don't let your anger take over."

Red Alert sighed., taking Jazz's sage advice. "Look, I just want to see him first... _if_ he'll see me," he said pointedly, doing his best not to panic or overreact.

"All right," Inferno agreed. If he had to play by Red Alert's rules he would.

-o-o-o-o-o-

In his alt-mode, Red Alert zipped through the halls with Jazz on his tail, the pair far faster in vehicular mode than Inferno. And when he reached his quarters he transformed and opened the door and burst in.

Ramjet, sitting on the couch, suddenly rose, excitedly stumbled over, and threw his arms around Red Alert. "Red! Red Love! Miss Red!" he squealed excitedly. But then he suddenly tensed and drew away. "Red... love..." he said slowly and quietly. A few more steps taken backward confirmed his distrust.

"Ramjet, it's me. The real me."

"He doesn't know that it wasn't really you that hurt him," said Jazz quite soberly, standing in the doorway.

"Ramjet, please come here," Red Alert pleaded gently. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Ramjet trembled, torn between the present and the memory. "Red..."

"Ramjet, come. I'm going to be very gentle with you. I'm not going to hurt you," he said reassuringly.

Slowly, nervously, Ramjet took a step forward, obedient rather than willing.

"Yes Ramjet. Come." Red Alert's voice was full of gentleness and patience, a tone Jazz had never heard him use in all the years they'd worked together.

Ramjet came further forward until he stood before his keeper, his whole frame twitching nervously. But by the time Inferno caught up, the seeker was in Red Alert's arms. "Red? Is he okay?" Inferno asked.

"He is. At least I think he is. He's trembling like a tungsten filament, but I think he's okay." Red Alert led the flyer over to the couch and sat him down, taking the spot beside him and stroking his closest wing comfortingly.

"Miss Red," said Ramjet timidly after a while. "Red gone. Red love hard. Red gone," he confessed sadly.

"Yes. And I'm sorry I ever left you." Red Alert sighed. "He still thinks it was me that... that... " He couldn't bring himself to say the words. "That hurt him."

"But he's not running from you," observed Jazz.

"I hope he'll forget over time." And then he took Ramjet's hand and held it to his chest. "I promise I'll never leave you like that again," he told the seeker.

Jazz looked a little surprised. "Don't go making promises you can't keep, Red."

Red Alert looked over at the black and white mech where he stood at the doorway with Inferno. "If I could trust everyone here, I wouldn't have to make promises like that," he said bitterly.

-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-o-o-

" **Broken Wings" continues in Chapter 8: Red Alert's Decision**

-o-o-o-o-o-

-o-o-o-

-o-

 **Author Note:** I know this chapter isn't perfect. If anyone has a better way to arrange the train of thought and chain of events, let me know. :)

-o-o-o-o-o-

 _Transformers_ and all related concepts, characters, worlds, and events are property of Hasbro and Takara Tomy. Original characters and story elements are property of E. Potter, writing under the pen name of Miratete.

Authors thrive on the responses of their readers. If you want to see more works like what you've read, let the author know.

If you'd like to see how this plot plays out, give this fic a 'Follow.'

If you thought this story was worth reading again sometime, give it a 'Favorite."

If you thought this story was interesting or well-written or worth recommending to a friend, leave a review.


End file.
